


Only Logical Harm

by leifmotifff



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, children's tv show porn, literally 17 years late to the party lol, somewhat possessive behavior, wet teenage dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifmotifff/pseuds/leifmotifff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever the reason, Nelson is irritated. Or bothered, anyway. The way he always is whenever McGinnis is in the equation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Logical Harm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garbagecollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagecollector/gifts).



> Kathy - thank you for dragging me into this 1999 children's television show so that my garbage water pervert self could fuck it up before even finishing the series. <3

Nelson opens his front door hurriedly, hasty to get out of the muggy afternoon heat. It’s been unseasonably warm this spring, and the sun baking into the concrete and steel of Gotham’s landscape makes Nelson thankful he has practice for different sports teams year-round, keeping him nice and comfortable inside Hamilton High’s air-conditioned gym facilities, usually until well past twilight.

He sighs as he feels the cool air hit his skin, dropping his gym bag and crosse attachment to the ground and stretching before heading to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Shitty day for practice to be unexpectedly cancelled, and an even shittier one for his car to be in the shop while its internal computer is being updated.

Nelson makes his way upstairs, kicking his shoes off once he’s in his bedroom. He sits down heavily on his bed and stares at the offline TV on the wall. He’s restless, not having had practice to tire him out, but there’s no way he’s going to start his homework right away… if he does at all. He falls back onto the mattress and closes his eyes, just to relax a little, thoughts shifting instead to the happenings at school today.

Carter Wilson is back from juvy this week, his hoity-toity parents having been able to hire some hotshot lawyer to mitigate his sentence. Turns out his high academic standing had in fact been mostly due to merit, since he’d tested right back into their class when he was released.

Nelson’s mind pulls up a scene he’d witnessed in passing earlier: Carter, standing in the courtyard with Maxine and McGinnis, sporting a downcast, somewhat sheepish look on his face. Obviously he was apologizing to her for what went down last year, but the other two actually seemed impressed that he had even reached out at all.

It was all so… civil. Friendly, even, and Nelson’s stomach had tightened with inexplicable annoyance as he watched Carter and McGinnis laughing together, probably sharing some stupid juvy joke.

Nelson scoffs. He knows how that sleaze Carter works. Trying to claw his way back up the social ladder, most likely, starting with the nerds and the rejects like McGinnis.

Whatever the reason, Nelson is irritated. Or bothered, anyway. The way he always is whenever McGinnis is in the equation, ever since…

Nelson breathes deep, still warm despite the blasting AC. The first time it had happened, Nelson had been dreaming about Dana. Sweet, sassy, delicate little Dana. Of course, she’d never go anywhere near him in real life, but luckily Nelson’s nocturnal imaginings weren’t limited by reality.

Her cute little mouth had felt so good around his cock, so tight and wet. He remembers putting a huge hand on her head, feeling her shiny black hair between his fingers. It had been nice – more than nice – until she glanced up. Nelson’s gut had twisted and he froze. Instead of her dark brown eyes, Terry McGinnis’ sharp blue ones looked up at him. Unmistakable; he’s known them since childhood.

Nelson had woken up gasping, eyes wide, legs twisted in damp sheets and his boxers a sticky mess.

He swallows, mouth going dry at the memory. Now that the initial panic following his first wet dream about another dude had dissipated, Nelson thinks, his subconscious probably hadn’t been too far off. There’s no way a pretty boy like McGinnis had survived three months in juvenile hall without learning a thing or two about what to do down there.

His cock stirs at the thought, and Nelson pictures the other boy in front of him, maybe in the locker room after wrestling practice, raising a dark eyebrow, tone mocking.

 _“Why, want lessons?”_ The Terry in his head says with a smirk.

Nelson feels his pulse quicken minutely, and he slips his hand under his t-shirt, starting to trail his fingers over his stomach in light circles. But the Terry in his mind doesn’t waste any time, just drops to his knees and breathes hot air over the thin material covering Nelson’s cock. He brings his gaze back up to Nelson’s face, and his voice is almost condescending when he says with quiet confidence, _“Take note.”_

Shit. Of course Nelson’s hard, just from that. He unbuttons his jeans quickly with one hand and grasps himself through his boxers, just to relieve a bit of the tension before pulling them down and releasing his engorged member.

As much as Nelson wants to fantasize about McGinnis blowing him just the way he likes it, even the fantasy version of Terry refuses to make it easy for him. He merely narrows his eyes, pressing the tip of his tongue into the slit before leaning back just a bit, so that Nelson can see the clear, obscene string of pre-come connecting the swollen head of his cock with Terry’s tongue.

Nelson lets out a small groan as he spreads that wetness around on his palm, and spits into his hand to lube himself up. In his mind’s eye, Terry licks slowly, lightly, lapping carefully at the head, before finally taking Nelson into his mouth and swirling his tongue around, tasting. He draws off Nelson’s cock with a tiny wet pop, before leaning in and brushing his lips against the head, a mockery of tenderness. Looks up through dark lashes. _“Are you paying attention?”_

Fuck, that’s hot. And Nelson thinks, guiltily, this may be why he keeps coming back to that dream, embellishing on it as he is. There’s no need for forced sweetness, and Nelson loves that he doesn’t have to hold back the way he would with Dana, or Chelsea; doesn’t have to worry about being too pushy or too rough and scaring them off.

No, McGinnis is strong. Nelson would be able to let go – to lash out through sex the way he usually did with sports, or by beating on the twips at school, and McGinnis would be able to match his violence, his cruelty. He would grip Nelson’s hips hard enough to bruise, flick his tongue just under the aching head of his cock, maybe drag those full lips of his slowly up and down the shaft, never breaking eye contact, teasing, until Nelson whined, until he _begged_.

 _God,_ Nelson wants to fuck into that mouth, wants to see those blue eyes water, but fantasy Terry won't let him, easily pins Nelson’s hips back against the lockers. Not to say that he couldn't. Terry probably deep throats like a champ, Nelson thinks, no gag reflex to speak of... He just does it on his own terms.

As if to prove it, the Terry in Nelson’s mind takes him all the way into his mouth, lips stretched wide around the base. Nelson squeezes the dripping head of his cock in his fist, wraps both hands tightly around his hard-on to mimic what that would feel like. He imagines his dick hitting the back of Terry's throat and swears, in the fantasy and out loud. He wants to grab Terry’s head, not to force him down or choke him, but simply to thread his fingers through that thick black hair – in appreciation, or latent affection, or _something_ – just to let him know like he never would in real life just how fucking much Nelson wants him, just how _good_ he is.

Fantasy Terry hums in what sounds like amusement, resulting in vibrations all along the length of his cock. Nelson’s hand is sloppy with spit and pre-come as he twists a bit on the upstroke, and shit – it's almost too much – he lets go of himself, the back of his hand flying up to his forehead with a soft smack. Nelson’s hips piston into the air, twitching, his cock pulsing, and he hears himself make an embarrassingly whiny sound.

He bites his bottom lip between his teeth and attempts to distract himself from how much he wants to come, pinching one of his nipples, hard. A little breathless noise escapes him, and Jesus, he might as well be outside, his face and body are so hot. He tries again to ground himself, breathing deeply, because no, he can’t come yet. He’s barely started. He likes envisioning Terry like this, cleverly in control, but that’s not the only way he likes it.

(And yeah, so what if he has multiple McGinnis fantasies - he’s too far past that line to even be ashamed about it. At least for now.)

 The scene he’s picturing changes: same setting, different conditions. This time Nelson’s the one in charge; he’s the one who makes McGinnis come undone, fucking him against the lockers, holding those slim hips up as the other boy’s hands scrabble at the metal behind him, lithe legs wrapped around Nelson, rocking his hips with the taller boy’s movements.

This Terry is different – he’s a mess, damp hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he’s loud. And Nelson doesn’t know why, but whenever he imagines them fucking, he imagines them kissing. Nelson licks his lips and indulges thoughts of shutting McGinnis up with a hard, rough kiss, swallowing the sweet sounds he’d make.

Having brought himself far enough back from the edge, Nelson’s hand closes around his dick again, gingerly resuming his stroking. In the fantasy, Nelson slows down, drives into Terry in a lazy rhythm. He wants to draw it out, make the other boy whine and squirm.

Maybe one of Terry’s hands moves, reaching down to grab at his cock, the head flushed and leaking against his pale stomach. But Nelson is quicker, grabs Terry’s hand and pins it to the locker by his head. The slighter boy’s reflexes are slow, and he whimpers before looking up at Nelson, confused, eyes hazy with lust.

 _"Not until I say, remember?"_ Nelson pants out, releasing Terry's wrist and bringing a hand up to push Terry's bangs out of his face, cupping his jaw. 

 _"You asshole,"_ fantasy Terry hisses, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching down hard on Nelson's cock in response.

Nelson groans, forehead falling against the other boy's, and he hoists Terry up again by the back of his thighs – starts thrusting into him deep, making sure to hit that sweet spot each time. Terry cries out with each thrust, hands scraping across Nelson’s back, legs tightening around his waist and his head hitting the lockers behind him with a dull thud. He half-opens his eyes when Nelson slows again, and Nelson can see little droplets of water on his eyelashes, his face red and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

Nelson bites the inside of his cheek, adjusts to make sure Terry's weight is resting firmly against the locker and Nelson’s own body, before sliding his palm around the lean muscle of Terry's thigh. Still holding him up, Nelson finally grips the perfect, neglected cock in his hand, swiping the pad of his thumb across the sensitive slit. Terry screams, thrashes, and _Christ_ , it's so fucking good, his tight ass squeezing and swallowing Nelson's cock deeper inside of him.

Nelson is lost in it for a little; the roll of their hips, the grinding of their hard, sweat-slicked bodies, the fucking _sounds_ they would make together... His actual strokes are getting faster, fist pumping vigorously, and he imagines he can feel Terry's hand grabbing weakly at his forearm.

Terry's looking up at him, eyes wet, desperate.

 _"Nels-Nelson—"_ he pleads, and he’s so impossibly _pretty_. 

Nelson grits his teeth. _"Alright,"_ he tries to say airily, but his voice is strained – he's riding on the cusp himself, so close, both in the fantasy and real life. _"Now,"_ he says, giving Terry's cock another two pumps and twisting, just under the frenulum. Terry arches abruptly off the lockers with a high-pitched moan, throwing his head back hard as he shudders and comes all over himself, spattering his stomach and Nelson's hand with pearly strings of hot jizz. 

 Nelson feels almost faint. He’s fucking dizzy with arousal, when something primitive and possessive flares up in him at the idea of McGinnis coming for him on command. He pictures dipping his head to Terry's exposed neck, slightly pink from exertion and glistening. Nelson sucks a hard bruise into the burning skin there, marking him, claiming him, because McGinnis is _his_ – always has been – his to touch and fight and fuck.

Fantasy Terry gasps softly at the sensation of Nelson's mouth on his fevered skin, and that's enough, Nelson's muscles lock up, and then he's coming like an avalanche, alone in his bedroom, into his own fist, coming harder than he has in months, maybe years, harder than the first time he ever had sex, with that forgettable girl from the Catholic school across town. 

His legs are still trembling a few minutes later, heartbeat decelerating to a more regular pace, body tingling all the way to his toes and fingertips. He slides his fingers messily through the cooling fluid on his stomach, relishing in the aftershocks of his orgasm. He only vaguely registers the sound of the garage door opening and a small commotion at the doorway.

"God damn it, Nelson!" His father’s voice booms from downstairs. "What the hell is all this in the hallway?" 

Nelson sits straight up and swears, heart rate picking up again. His lacrosse gear. "Y-yes, sir! Coming, sir!" 

He winces when he hears himself, still out of breath, arm flailing around for something to wipe the sticky substance from his body. He heaves a deep sigh before bounding down the stairs two at a time to put away his stuff.

_~_

The next day at school, Nelson sees McGinnis in the hallway, flocked by his usual crowd of hot smart girls. He notices, pleased, that Carter is nowhere to be found, but he still can’t resist the urge to knock into the dark-haired boy when he passes.

"Watch where you're going, McGinnis!" He jeers, shouldering past him. 

McGinnis grunts at the shove, before tensing, ready for a fight, scowl shaping his mouth into a perfect pout. Nelson wants to lick it. 

"Cut it out, Nelson," Dana intones, bored, but Nelson’s already continuing his swaggering stride through the crowd of students.

He’ll never admit it even to himself, but his shoulder and cheeks warm slightly from the thrill of that brief contact. He hears Dana telling McGinnis not to pay attention to him, but Nelson feels the hard, heated stare of those blue eyes following him all the way out of the room.

A self-satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of Nelson's lips.

Yep, all his. 

_-fin-_


End file.
